


Matters of Trust

by helsinkibaby



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles, The Following
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3569585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the advice of an old friend, Debra receives a visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matters of Trust

**Author's Note:**

> For the comment fic "hello and goodbye" theme, prompt "any crossover(s). any&any or any/any. First meeting"

"Agent Parker?"

She blinks at the man standing in front of her. He's tall - well, she's lying down so everyone looks tall to her, but even if she were standing up, he'd still be a good head taller than she is. He's casually dressed, dark slacks with a white shirt open at the neck with rolled up sleeves and when he looks at her, gives her a small smile, his eyes are kind. 

"For the moment." She hears her own voice before she's registered that she's actually going to answer him and she's as surprised by that as by the words that she said. "And you are?" No threat, she knows that at least. Between Marshall Turned and Mike, they've got her visitor list pared down to a select few; for this man to have gained entrance, he can be trusted to not be a threat, or at least not an immediate one. 

"I'm Nate... Nate Getz." He takes a step towards her bed. "A friend sent me." He blinks, tilts his head. "Well,  not exactly a friend. She'd probably kill me with her little finger if she heard me call her that..." He looks around in a way that makes her think he's looking for hidden cameras or recording devices and just like that, the pieces slot into place. 

"Hetty sent you."

Nate returns her small smile with one of his own. "Yes. Yes she did. She would have come herself but..." He shrugs and she chuckles. 

"Same old Hetty." She pulls herself up into a seating position, relieved that he doesn't try to help, lets her do it for herself. Once settled comfortably, she looks at Nate again, looks closely. "This can't be her bi-annual recruiting pitch," she decides, and Nate nods once. "So why did she send you here? Now?"

Nate walks to the chair beside her bed, sits down carefully. "Because she thought you might want to talk." His tone is calm, understanding, one she's heard before from several therapists over the years, and again for the last seven days. 

More pieces slot into place. "You're a shrink."

"I prefer the term psychologist, but your mileage may vary." She must look as distrustful as she feels because Nate leans forward, continuing, "You don't have to talk to me... But since I got pulled out of Sana'a to fly here on a C-190 heading for Andrews, Hetty seems to think you need to talk to someone." He shrugs again. "Might as well be me."

"And if I don't?" She's talked to more than her fair share of shrinks over the years, some with more success than others. Right now, though, the last thing she wants to do is relive the events of the last few days. 

Nate shrugs, looking supremely unaffected - she suddenly has the idea that he gets this attitude a lot. "Then you get to get out of here in a few days, no matter what, and I get a few days Stateside before heading back to the Middle East, I get a decent steak, a beer..." He gives her a tiny smile. "Everyone wins."

He'd mentioned the Middle East before but it only registers properly with her now. "Why did Hetty fly you all this way when she knew I wouldn't talk to you?"

"Why does Hetty do anything?" Nate counters and it's a simple statement that she can't counter argue. "Maybe she thought that since you trust her, you'd trust me."

Debra raises an eyebrow. "Who says I trust Hetty?"

That makes him blink, a genuine look of surprise crossing his face, hastily covered but not hastily enough. It's like the thought of not trusting Hetty has never occurred to him and Debra wonders, with a sudden pang of envy, what that type of certainty must feel like. It's something she hasn't felt in far too long and she leans back against the pillow, closes her eyes. "I'm tired now."

If he knows it's a lie, he doesn't call her on it. Instead she hears the chair scrape backwards on the linoleum floor. "Sure. I'll come back tomorrow."

When she opens her eyes again he is gone. 


End file.
